A Series of Unfortunate Temporal Events
by USS Acheron Crew
Summary: USS Acheron Mission 1


**A Series of Unfortunate Temporal Events**  
-**_The Maiden Voyage of the Acheron_** -

Creatively Composed by  
The USS Acheron Crew:  
- Roc Williams  
- Jarelek  
- Salient Lyric

Salient's Notes: _This mission led directly into the Fleet Mission 'The Hidden Reich'. …Enjoy._

_Dramatis Personae:  
- in order of appearance…_

_Admiral Tristan Errland III: Fleet Admiral of the entire Gamma Contention Fleet, Admiral Errland is a charismatic and personable leader. He has led the Fleet through hard and terrible times._

_Captain Roc Williams: Captain of the USS Acheron, Williams is a decorated and experienced leader. Experienced as he is, however, even he cannot be prepared for a crew such as this… Williams is a strong, wise warrior. He commands with a more trusting hand than many captains, preferring his crew to explore the depths of their personal, creative, and intellectual talents with careful guidance instead of harsh control._

_Ensign Salient Lyric: Lyric is a quirky member of the Entrolian race, a people bent to the will of their almost-deific leader, Emperor Dar Evil. Stripped of his natural mental abilities and thrown from the Negative Order, Lyric was one of the Order's foremost scientists and a member of the uppermost cabal of Entrolians. Now he has turned to Starfleet with his talents, and is learning how to replace self-centeredness with compassion._

_Ensign Jarelek: Jarelek is not a typical Vulcan. Gifted with an unusual insight into the workings of the universe, Jarelek is currently biding his time as Chief Engineer of the Acheron. He has invented several technologies currently used by the Federation. Jarelek is the chief target of antagonism for Salient's antics. He is fitted with a robotic arm, giving him unusual strength, (though he rarely displays it openly). Jarelek loves music, particularly the works of Llamak. _

_Commander Daniel Samms: Samms is the XO of the Acheron, and where Roc is generally a serious leader, Samms enjoys pranks and humor nearly as much as Salient. He is a perfect complement to his commanding officer, and the two stand together as an excellent command staff for the ship. Samms is, however, a conflicted character, not nearly as introspective as some of the other members of the crew, he doesn't entirely understand himself. He was the ringleader for the avatar re-design program, but has since fallen out with the Acheron's chief science officer. He finds an uneasy mentor in the ship's terrifying counselor, Kravic Non._

_Lambda Lambda Lambda: The ship's avatar, Lambda Lambda Lambda is a particularly obnoxious piece of programming. Lambda is insatiably nosey, and will check up on anyone he thinks is being irresponsible. He has an unfortunate habit of telling others how to do their job. This has caused many members of the crew to begin plotting his demise…Samms being first among them.  
_

**_Comissioning Ceremony ..._**

Tristan waved his hand in a dignified gesture to the rows and rows of Starfleet Officers, standing at attention at his arrival on the transporter pad, so that they would stand at ease. The room was large, as was to be expected of a cargo bay. He stepped off the large cargo transporter and carried himself gracefully into the wake of empty space that cleared before him. His strides were proud and confident, yet graceful and elegant… it was a skill he had developed from his many years of admiralty, and it provided him an image of nobility and importance that had aided him on countless occasions. But on this particular occasion there was a certain bounce in the admiral's step; and the twinkle in his eye only complimented the broad grin tugging at the sides of his mouth. Commissioning a new ship, crew, and captain was one of Tristan's most enjoyed experiences, and he was looking forward to the coming ceremony.

Walking proudly beside him was newly promoted Captain Roc Williams, a stalwart and commando type man. Having read his service record, Tristan had requested his transfer due to his extensive experience with the Borg. As a Lieutenant, he and a team of scientists had remained hidden on a Borg Cube for three months. Their research provided incredible intelligence for the Federation and allowed for the creation of numerous anti-Borg defense systems. He was truly a cut above the rest and would surely prove a one-of-a-kind commanding officer.

Captain Williams stepped in line behind the admiral as they approached the front line of officers comprised of the senior staff. Tristan grasped each of their hands and welcomed them on board. The first was, to Tristan's surprise, the ensign Entrolian named Salient Lyric… a member of the race that made up the Negative Order, Dar Evil's evil empire. Tristan had read the young man's profile and was aware of his origins, but seeing him in person, for some reason, still surprised him. But with no physical disclosure of his emotions save a cordial smile, Tristan shook his hand vigorously and moved on. Next in line was a Vulcan Tristan recognized as ensign Jarelek. Jarelek had been one of the valedictorians of his recent training mission. Tristan shook the Vulcan's hand and moved on. Next was, as expected, was the Acheron's new first officer, Commander Daniel Samms. Samms bore a remarkable resemblance to his new captain, Roc Williams and, had it not been for the age difference, Tristan may have thought the two were the same person. Nevertheless, Tristan shook the man's hand and found himself at the end of the line. He turned and stood in a dignified, admiralish pose while waiting for Captain Williams to finish greeting his crew in like manner. Soon, the first phase of formalities was over, and Tristan rose to the platform at the forefront of the cargo bay. He gripped the edges of the elaborate glass podium and addressed the crowd of Starfleet Officers.

"Ladies, gentlemen, and invited transgender species, we have gathered to celebrate the birth of a new family. It is times like these that make an admiral's duty worthwhile. It means that our great Federation is growing once again, and is a sign of these individuals' loyalty and pledge of service. As you embark on your new ship, your voyages, your adventures, even your struggles, will bring you closer together. Crew of the USS Acheron, it is my duty, and my pleasure to introduce to you your new commanding officer, Captain Roc Williams."

Williams proceeded to take the stand and repeat the ceremonial words which he had no doubt been practicing for months. "I, captain Roc Williams, pledge my loyalty to Starfleet and the Federation by taking command of the USS Acheron, as of this date, 91425.2… I welcome all of you aboard and look forward to meeting each of you. I'm sure we will get to know each other very quickly."

Captain Williams gave a cordial smile. "Well then," he continued, "To the reception room!"

The crew clapped and cheered. Slowly, the mob began inching its way out of the cargo bay and to the mess hall, where food and fellowship awaited them…

**_After the ceremony..._**

Captain Roc Williams stepped off the transpad and adjusted his uniform shirt. Roc had slipped away from the ceremony just as soon as etiquette had allowed him to do so. He needed to get acquainted with his ship.

He looked up at what should have been the bridge… but it wasn't. He was in a corridor on deck… well he really didn't know which deck he was on. He turned around and walked back to the transpad and repeated his command, "Bridge." He felt the molecules of his body scramble and when he stepped off the transpad again he found himself in another generic, unknown corridor that was still not the bridge. He sighed and tapped his comm badge, or rather, where his comm badge should have been, but wasn't. Sigh again.

It must have fallen off, he thought to himself.

Roc looked left and then right. Finally deciding on left, he allowed his body to follow his eyes and strode that way in search of a console with which he could access the ship's communications system. But what he found instead was a Jeffries tube, leading up. He sighed a third time and pulled on his neck hair nervously. His eyes fell on the location sign on the bulkhead just down the corridor. _Deck 2_

This Jeffries tube went up, and up was the bridge. It would not make for the glamorous, 'Captain on the bridge!' pomp and circumstance entrance that he had hoped for, but right now he would settle with rolling through a crawl space onto the deck of the bridge. Which was exactly what happened.

A resident of the Gamma quadrant for only about two and a half days, Roc was not enjoying himself. The crew of his transport ship, the Othello, accidentally dropped his luggage on space station Poseidon with the rest of their delivery there. They did, however manage to deliver him to his proper destination on Space Station Hecate where he spent about half an hour doing paperwork before beaming to his new ship the Acheron for the inauguration ceremony.

"Could someone please tell me why the transpad is not functional?" The Captain made a general announcement over the bridge full of busy crewmen, and officers that hadn't seen him crawling in through the deck 2-access panel. All activity ceased suddenly, and there had been a lot going on. Roc counted no less then three engineering repair teams, six officers and several crewmen randomly scattered about - all of them now staring at him. These were the men and women that made up the backbone of the Acheron. It would be these people who struggled through the smoke of battle to repair the damage done to their ship, so that she would be strong enough to strike down her opponents. It was these people who toiled in various parts of the not-ready-quite-yet-starship while the staff officers drank to her success. Every one of these men and women had their Captain's respect and admiration, and yet… he didn't actually know any of them yet. And as it seemed by the awkwardness of the long silence they didn't know him either.

Breaking the stalemate, a short and lanky figure materialized on the transpad. The ship's science officer, whom Roc had just met moments ago, stepped onto the bridge. He nodded to the Captain and turned his attention to his place at the science station without a word. That seemed to be enough of a cue for the officers and crew to return to what they were doing. Once again, Captain Williams was the proverbial fly on the wall. He stepped towards the communications panel and activated a ship wide communiqué.

"Now here this, Now here this, All staff officers and department heads please report to the Conference room in one hour. That is all."

**_Later, in the conference room..._**

"You plugged that it the wrong way, doof!"

"I did not - that goes right there, I swear. It just... uh... spontaneously combusted! Yeah, that's right!"

The Acheron lay in energized repose in the embrace of the retractable arms of the construction and repair facility. Less a child in the womb - more a bullet in the barrel of a gun, the activity around her was frenzied in preparation for her to make her maiden voyage. Shuttlecraft, suited repair crews, and automated construction drones swarmed around her, for unfortunately, she was not on schedule.

Construction crews all over the ship raced as fast as was possible to complete their immense number of yet-to-be completed tasks. Many things would not be done before launch, some would have to wait until the Acheron's successful return after taking a quick trip around the nebula.

The Captain was in the ready room before everyone else - a miscalculation, he was beginning to suspect, since he would have to wait until every straggler made it in. Next time, he would be the very last one to arrive, so the meeting could start on his terms.

Two busy prep crewmen were entangled in the tentacled wires of a gutted wall panel, doing something important with a plasma chainsaw and a sledgehammer. "Ensigns," he commanded, "I need this room for a briefing. You can finish when we're through."

One turned - the other was incapable, since most of his head was being consumed by the wiry guts out of the wall. "Captain... we are literally holding the life support conduits together with our bare hands." He tried to shrug, but ended up looking like a squid. "May we please stay, Sir? We promise not to make any noise, or anything."

Williams sighed his approval.

The door opened, and a massive, titanicrete pipe was thrown in, crashing to the deck and making a really big THUMP! It nearly mashed Captain Williams into gooey goodness. "Is that where you wanted it?" called a voice.

"Oh, thanks, Mr. Jarelek," one of the two wire-wrapped crewmen said. "Could you bring it over here?"

Jarelek the engineer stepped gracefully over the section of the immense pipe that now blocked the doorway, and into the room. As Williams watched amazedly, Jarelek, with effort, lifted one end of the insanely huge piece of pipeway, dragged it over to the two crewmen, and dropped it with a SLAM.

"Thanks again," said the worker. With a great deal more effort than Jarelek, and even help from his halfway wire-eaten friend, he maneuvered the pipe in front of the panel, and shoved it in. He immediately got back to work.

Jarelek repositioned his uniform front, wiped his hands on his pants, (but not where you could see it) and took his chair at the conference table. "Good day, Captain."

The doors opened a second time, and Roc got ready to move out of the way if anything came flying through. But nothing did, it was Daniel Samms, the Chief Tactical officer, and Salient Lyric, the Chief Science officer. Roc knew none of these men well, only by their transcripts and their interviews.

They were late, and had much to do. The conference began, to the grating, obnoxious sound of a running plasma chainsaw.

Williams was nearing the end of his rope.

"Who are you?" he snapped at a bookish, auburn haired aide who entered a half step behind the other officers. He had no pips on his collar, but glided across the floor as though he belonged here perfectly, in a department head meeting.

"I am the ship's avatar and operating Officer at Helm, sir. You may call me Computer Intelligence Apparition Lambda Lambda Lambda." He pointed his uppity nose at every crew member, making sure they understood. "This is my designation. Please note that I am not a Cupholder, nor am I an Coffee Fetcher, nor a Paperweight. My skills are highly advanced, and should be used as such. I - " At this, the Captain cut him off, thanked him, and told him to have a seat. This particle projected avatar was mildly annoying. The captain shifted gears to a more professional- let's get this done attitude and began the meeting.

He did however, have to yell over the saw.

"My name is Captain Roc Williams! I will be your Commanding Officer. I haven't had the chance to meet all of you yet, but I look forward to doing so! You may stop by my office if you have any concerns or need my assistance in any way!"

"Captain!" The Vulcan interjected. "Your office is not quite ready for service! I would ask that you give the Engineering team in that section a little more time!"

The captain paused, and sighed. Not that it could be heard over the saw.

"All department heads give me your reports now! As best you can! I want to know..." The saw prevailing over the meeting thought this would be a great time for a joke and silenced itself. That left Captain Williams yelling at the top of his lungs over nothing. No one laughed.

"Eh- Hem. I want to know what is working." The Captain sat, after dusting the thin layer of dust from his chair, and awaited his new officers reports.

Suddenly, all eyes were pasted on Jarelek. The Vulcan's eyes darted around the room. He noted the ceiling tiles still being installed, the life support systems being repaired, the plasma conduits being installed, and that was only in the captain's ready room. What was the poor Vulcan to do? An engineer was only as good as his staff.

"I can have the ship ready in twenty-six—" Jarelek was stopped in mid-sentence by a sharp, disapproving look from Captain Williams.

"—hours… less than I originally calculated." The Vulcan nodded confirmation of what he wished he hadn't just said.

"How long, ensign?" Captain Williams persisted.

Jarelek gulped as he took his career in his hands and gambled it. "Five hours, sir."

Williams nodded approvingly. "Good. I want to get underway this evening."

Jarelek understood. "Understood."

Jarelek asked to be dismissed to continue his work. As he left, he could be heard muttering something about five measly hours and wishing he'd signed up for the next mining expedition to the Beta Quadrant.

Salient rocked back in his chair, fingers steepled. Anticipating the wrath of this unfamiliar captain, he slowed his answer. "I requisitioned all of the necessary scientific equipment from Ex Astris... unfortunately..."

"Yes?" Roc asked, in dread of the answer.

The slight Entrolian sighed. "Virtually none of it has come in yet. Many of the sensor arrays, including the High Spectral analyzer, the Inverse Quantum Wave sensors, the Diverging Axial Sequencer, and the Vibrational Reflection array are not here." Roc Williams leaned forward.

"Well, I suppose we won't be scanning any supernovas this trip. It's strictly a jaunt around the nebula, nothing strenuous. What else hasn't come?"

Salient winced. "We only have one probe, one two man scientific research shuttlecraft, four bad relays to the particle scanners, seven missing chemical storage crates that were apparently shipped to the Ferengi by 'accident', a lost Piss'khow piercer-"

The avatar jumped in, incredulous. "A what?"

"A Piss'khow piercer." Salient narrowed his eyes at the projection of the uppity, button nosed officer.

"And what, pray tell, is a Piss'khow piercer?"

Salient folded his arms. "A very fine, specifically tapered and alloyed blade."

The avatar glared. "Used for..."

"Obviously, to pierce my pissing khows. How else am I supposed to get the lymph tissue out? They're just going to languish in caged purposelessness until we get back. Surgical knives give them hives, and lasers make them explode. Honestly..." Salient shook his head.

The science officer turned back to the captain, catching the barest edge of a smile that was turned away by a dutiful focus. "If I may continue... we are also lacking my personal portable quasar generator, most of my lab equipment, and my kithara." Exasperated, he leaned further back in his chair. "So not only are we consigned to using standard subspace scanners, I am personally consigned to musicless oblivion. I will have a word with those spacedock techs when we get back."

"To wrap it up, captain, we're not missing anything we absolutely need for this trip, unless anyone suddenly has a pressing need for Piss'khow lymph. We'll get by. My lab is not set up, and I haven't entirely drafted the Science Division's manifesto the way I like it, nor have I had opportunity to break in my underlings. But we'll be fine."

The avatar spoke up, boorishly. "Oh, and while I'm thinking about it, don't use the Particle Synthesis Chamber for the time being. It's stuck on a Klingon painstick ritual that I can't get anyone to purge - the manual console is beneath a panel in the program itself - we've put five techs in the infirmary, and I'm trying to find someone with body armor."

"I'll tell you something that's not working..." Salient whispered to Daniel Samms, the tactical officer, as the projection of the computer was speaking. "That avatar. I think it needs some major reprogramming..." Samms nodded, grinning.

"I have an idea," he whispered back. "I'll need a little help."

"It's yours," Salient concealed a nasty smile.

The avatar shot them a suspicious glance, and ceased his litany.

**_Engineering..._**

"Get me a new filter for the tachyon filtering grid! This one is filthy!"

"Someone shut off that 'Critical Quantum Corruption Detector'! It's ringing is breaking my concentration!"

"Get those replacement power converters up to deck three, they need to be able to breathe up there, too!"

"Put the extra isolitic flux inhibitors in that bin to be taken to sick bay!"

Jarelek had been multitasking his multitasking multitaskings, and he was still behind schedule. For the last twenty minutes, he had devoted his efforts to repairing the tachyon filtering grid. Such a grid was a convenient stopper of space-time implosion and he liked to keep his working. He only hoped that other engineers didn't have as much trouble as he did keeping the blasted thing working correctly. Otherwise their universe would soon become a giant wedge of Swiss Cheese, only, to mister Lyric's dismay, not so tasty on cheeseburgers.

Someone finally tossed him a filter. Jarelek hoisted the large frame in which was cradled the clean, blue, filtering mesh. Placing it carefully, oh so carefully, into the slot, he proceeded to close the drawer-like extension from the wall. Turning back to the quantum gate, he watched its filthy, polluted green hue revert to a clean blue. It pleased him, and very much so. But, as the gate returned defiantly to its ugly green coloration, Jarelek proceeded to frown disapprovingly and turn back to the filter. As he did, it exploded and billowed smoke obnoxiously from its sealed drawer in the wall.

Jarelek's eyebrow twitched in sheer rage.

He opened up the drawer and was instantly greeted by plumes of black smoke. The filter, burnt to a crisp, popped up from its housing just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease. It frustrated him.

"Captain Williams to Jarelek," came a disembodied, melodic voice floating gracefully through the air, the way a bowling ball wouldn't.

"This is Jarelek," replied the distraught engineer, coughing and blubbering through the smoke.

Jarelek heard Williams mutter something to someone around him about a burning smell and checking the fire suppression systems. "Jarelek, I need those engines now. We're supposed to be disembarking!"

Jarelek sighed. Jarelek looked at the smoldering filtering grid.

Jarelek sighed.

He should have asked Lyric for some of that khow lymph. He always found khow lymph to be an effective tachyon filterer, not to mention a superb condiment on cheeseburgers. And Lyric always brought his piss'khow pointed blade with him. The only time he'd ever left home without it was when his blind grandmother, bless her heart, mistook it for her walking cane when she went on vacation to the living moon of Karakanakatukana Prime. That poor moon-enveloping creature was whimpering and licking its wounds for weeks after that woman left for home.  
But it was too late to get the khow lymph now.

Jarelek looked at the singed grid once more. He sighed.

Head hanging in his hand and shaking back and forth, Jarelek announced, "Just…go!"

**_Conference Room..._**

While Jarelek struggled in engineering, the rest of the staff officers took turns giving reports concerning their own department. The tune of each song was the same- understaffed, overworked and unprepared. The Science department was by far the most ready for active duty. Though they were still short quite a bit of equipment, it all sounded like things that they wouldn't really need for this trip. The ship had yet to be assigned a doctor, so the ship's counselor was doing the best he could along side the staff nurses and medical techs. The Ops department would need little attention with a ship's Avatar on board. Though it was not ideal conditions, Lambda could control all the ship handling from his post at helm. Williams knew that a ship's maiden voyage was just for show, and that it was not entirely necessary to have the ship in peak operational condition. He remembered the christening of a ship in the beta quadrant, after which the ship moved two kilometers under thruster power then reversed thrusters and came straight back to dry dock where she spent another month before joining the fleet. The Acheron was not quite that bad, but she was far from full operational readiness.

Taking notes on a PADD, Williams knew that he and his crew would be lucky to leave the dock in five hours. Roc checked his notes before speaking.

"I haven't heard anything from Tactical." All of the officers at the table suddenly looked nervous. Sidelong glances were many and words were none. Roc sighed. "Who is the officer in command of the Tactical and Security Department at this time?" Each word was pronounced slowly and directly with an equal amount of emphasis given to each one.  
Samms cleared his throat to break the silence.

"Eh-hem, Two crewmen have reported to Security- no officers at this time."  
Roc's frustration was evident.

"Put the senior of them in command temporarily and have them prepare a report the ship's current tactical capabilities and take inventory of all ordinance and personal weapons onboard."

"Um, sir?" Samms spoke with excessive caution. "They have both been in Starfleet for less then a year. This is their first ship assignment." Instead of a sigh or an onslaught of raving anger, the only reaction from Captain Williams was raucous laughter that tapered off into a barely audible 'oh boy'.

"Commander Samms, do you have any plans for the next four and a half hours?"

"Um… well… actually… yes, sir."

"Cancel them. Meet me in Security as soon as you can get there." Captain Williams started for the door. "And Commander, bring a few blank PADDs and a pair of short sleeves." The Captain's last word was spoken form the corridor outside.

"Dismissed."

Captain Williams, Commander Samms and two of the greenest crewmen ever to wear a Starfleet uniform made the oddest Security team one would ever see. But, despite the oddity of their ensemble, when the Captain and his XO returned to the bridge four hours later, the Security department was as close to operational as an unmanned Security department could be, the Acheron carried a full complement of transphasic torpedoes and, as soon as the engineers applied power to them, the shields and quantum resonators would be fully operational. Their Captain, though still unfamiliar, had proven to the crew of the Acheron that he would not ask anything of them that he was not willing to do himself.

From the bridge, Captain Williams called on Jarelek to give him enough engine power for this flight.

"Just go," was the simple reply from engineering through a weak transmission that clicked and popped with electrical noise. If this ship got out to the far end of the nebula and lost power, it was going to be really embarrassing to be towed back to the shipyard.

"Lambda, departure procedure Alpha 5, engage."

"Departure Procedure Alpha 5, Aye sir." The ship shuttered even under ¼ impulse.

Roc looked over at his young first officer who looked back and explained. "The inertial dampers are only operating at 15 efficiency, sir."

"You hear that Lambda? Take it easy on us." This was going to be the most interesting half hour of space flight that any of them had ever experienced.

**_Engineering..._**

Every muscle in Jarelek's weary body tensed as he felt the ship lurch forward. He half expected the glowing globe of a quantum gate to pop off its resting place in the center of the room, and start spinning around like a top. That would be distressing. But, as Jarelek heard the soft creaks and groans of metal alloys, grinding against each other for the first time, and the hum of energy, flowing smoothly through the richly pampered conduits, he found everything the be holding together nicely. Slowly realizing that the star system wasn't going to implode because of his engineering faux pas, Jarelek relaxed. He glanced at his console. All systems were functioning well within normal operating parameters. In fact, they were functioning perfectly. Everything seemed ship shape. Jarelek congratulated himself on a job perfectly done.

The tachyon filtering grid exploded.

Blast it all! Everything was working fine until that infuriating, confounded box-in-the-wall once again protested its functionality!

That does it, Jarelek thought, I've had it with this filtering grid…

"Computer!" Jarelek bellowed loudly, "Open…. the compartment!"

Suddenly, all eyes had been torn from their various readouts and consoles, and were now plastered on Jarelek, who stood in a most dramatic pose beside the disgustingly green quantum gate. Every face in engineering was frozen in an expression of awe and fear. From the speakers in the ceiling resounded an eerie klaxon which sounded more like an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30. By now, the ambiance was of dim lighting and red flashes. The light from the quantum gate gave the white, fog-like smoke, billowing out of the cooling vents in the floor, a daunting, frightening, green glow. The engineering crew had long since backed against the walls, trying in vain to escape the chilling scene, but there was no avoiding it. Jarelek, who was still poised dramatically beside the gate, knew what he had to do.

With the klaxon howling scarily in the background, green-hued fog rolling across the floor and up the walls, and crewmen scattered about in fear as if about to meet their terrifying demise, two colossal doors cranked loudly, slowly open. The massive doors caused a slight air movement in engineering which blew Jarelek's hair and uniform. But Jarelek stood his ground… unphased…unrelenting.

Finally, the doors were standing completely ajar. The red alert flashes ceased, and the lighting returned to normal. The smoke began to dissipate. The two gigantic doors now revealed...

A storage compartment.

Rows and rows of extra tachyon filters which Jarelek had decided to store… just in case. He strode casually forward and grabbed a filter from its rack, and closed the storage compartment doors. Then proceeded to replace the burned-out filter with the fresh, new one.

"Excellent," Jarelek observed as he dusted off his hands. He then glanced at the chronometer on a nearby console. "Time for lunch," he announced, "take five, crew."

**_Later…_**

Jarelek, having eaten lunch, decided to visit the bridge where Captain Williams and the senior staff were located. He could monitor engineering systems from his station there. The transpad carried his molecules instantly from deck ten to deck one and, within seconds, he had stepped onto the newly furnished main bridge. Even with his shoddy olfactory senses, Jarelek detected the strong scent of new carpet and other textile products. It was a pleasing scent. By now, the work crews had long vacated this particular command center, and were now scurrying about in the bowels of the ship, fixing up the rest of the minute details that made the average starship a beautiful work of art.

Jarelek walked to the rear wall of the bridge where was located yet another transpad that led to the second story of the bridge. Here was where the conference room and all the secondary and auxiliary stations were located, not to mention the coffee break area. Jarelek had noticed that certain of the crew seemed to spend a significant amount of time relaxing on the sumptuous sofas and recliners in the corner of the room. He wondered if such extravagant furnishings were standard on all Curie class ships, or if Captain Williams had put them there just for himself and his bridge crew. Jarelek's eyebrow rose involuntarily.

At any rate, Jarelek was now standing on the second floor of the bridge which basically a concave balcony overlooking the main floor, spanning the rearmost 60 degrees of the roughly circular bridge. Looking down, he estimated that the balcony was eleven point two-nine-one feet removed from the main floor. With this new bird's eye view, Jarelek could clearly see everything going on below him. From here, the bridge looked even more monumental than it did from the main floor, and from there it was still larger than any bridge he'd ever seen before.

Turning his attention away from the eleven-foot precipice, Jarelek found his engineering station. It was quite a bit larger and more prominent than he'd expected. From here he could not only observe ship's status, but manage it as well. He imagined himself spending much of his on-duty time at this station. He looked down at his feet, where a blue, circular transpad was built into the floor directly in front of the engineering consoles. He waved his foot over the pad, and a hovering chair materialized above the pad. Jarelek sat down and began working. The first thing he did was configure the main display to keep track of the tachyon filtering grid…

Suddenly, from elsewhere on the second floor, Jarelek heard someone's console begin to beep. It was Salient Lyric's.

"Captain," Jarelek heard Lyric announce, "I sense a disturbance in the force."

Williams looked at him strangely. "I beg pardon?"

Lyric cocked his head to the side, as if unaware of what he just said, or why he said it. "I meant, of course, that…. Sensors are detecting a disturbance on the outer rim of the shadow nebula. It looks temporal."

Roc Williams sighed… "We just collapsed a temporal anomaly an hour ago!"

"Ahh," Lyric said, "But maybe it's the same one…"

The comment was intended to be humorous, but Lyric's attempts at humor often came across as solemn predictions of doom.

"Set a course," Captain Williams ordered, "Maximum velocity."

At this, Jarelek tapped his comm. Panel. "Captain," he said, "The dampening equipment for the upper registers of our coaxial warp drive don't arrive…. Until Tuesday."

Williams turned around and had to squint to see the Vulcan sitting so far away on the second floor. "Very well then" he said, "Maximum possible velocity!... engage!"

Even at warp five, the Acheron soon drew near to the anomaly. "Helm, take us just close enough for Mr. Lyric to get a good look at… at whatever that is." Williams didn't want to cause damage to his ship or injury to his crew on this shakedown cruise. Not that he was one to avoid dangerous situations, just because they were dangerous, but he knew that his ship was in no condition for a fishing expedition… or firefight… or what have you.

"This should be sufficient." Lyric's words were muffled as he pressed his face into the sensor hood installed at his station. Definitely not standard Starfleet, Williams thought. The Entrolian worked diligently for another minute and a half before reporting his findings.

"It is a temporal vortex with a Negative Order energy signature."

"Inside the shadow nebula."

"Correct, sir."

"Does there happen to be any other ships near by?"

The answer that matched that question came from Ops. "I am now detecting one ship -a Negative Order freighter. I don't believe it is military in design.

"All Negative Order ships are military in their design." Lyric interjected. "Crewman, could you tell me the frequency of that ship's psi bleed?"

"I don't believe that I could." The crewman at the ops station looked confused, and not sure if he was supposed to have any idea about what the Officer across the bridge had just said.

"Could you explain that to me, Mr. Lyric?" The Captain's question made the crewman feel better.

Lyric rolled his eyes condescendingly. "Every piece of NO technology uses psi, or mental energy as its power source. Everything from as small as a handheld tricorder to as large and complex as a warship is run by psi. Just like any other energy source, psi is only so efficient. If we can measure how much psi that ship is bleeding off into space, then we know how efficiently that ship is running." Every person on the bridge let fly a simultaneous 'ooooooh…aaaaaaah' of sudden understanding.

"Look in the same places you would for a quantum signature, and then have the computer measure the frequency." The crewman pecked away at his console which rewarded him with a set of very nicely timed beeps and eventually the information he was looking for."

". 0265… I think." Was the uneasy reply.

Lyric jumped on it. "Sir, if that were a simple cargo freighter or transport of some kind it would be emitting psi at a much higher frequency. That ship is operating at the efficiency of a warship. I would recommend caution."

"Captain!" The crewman at ops gasped, "That ship just entered the vortex."

"Sir, we have to follow it!" Lyric became suddenly excited.

"We are not going to attempt time travel in our current operational condition. You have one probe, correct Mr. Lyric?"

"Correct."

"Then launch it. Quickly!"

The Entrolian science officer began working furiously at his station. "We need to be closer."

"Lambda?" Was the Captain's only reply.

"In range sir." The automated helmsman's report was unnecessary because everyone on the ship felt the sudden stop.

"Jarelek, you have got to fix those!" Captain Williams spoke as he picked himself up off the deck.

"Yes sir." Jarelek's voice wavered slightly as he struggled to hang onto the railing. Two crewmen rushed to the dangling Vulcan's aid.

"Probe away!" Salient Lyric, also unable to keep his seat, was stretching from a prone position on the floor to reach the button.

Just as soon as all the bridge officers had returned to their feet, a sudden and violently powerful explosion rocked the ship. One of the Engineering consoles exploded and bathed the main bridge in sparks. The main lights blinked off and then back up to a dull brown, and everyone hit the deck. Everyone that is, except Lyric, who kept his place by gripping the hilt of a dagger he had unceremoniously jammed into the upper edge of his console. He calmly monitored the probe.

"Sir, it would appear that our probe has lodged in the opening of the vortex causing the gravity well that you all just felt. I believe that we are no longer in the shadow nebula."

"Then where are we?" Asked Captain Williams, now much more familiar with the deck of his new ship then he ever wanted to be.

"I am not sure yet sir."

"Sir, I'm reading a nine planet solar system." The crewman at Ops was returning to his post and spoke as he did so. "I think it's Sol."

"What!"

"The gravity well must have pulled us into the vortex, and this is where it lets out."

"Mr. Lyric, that was a temporal vortex, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then… when are we, exactly?"

"Still working on that."

"Ops, prepare a message back to fleet command. Tell them everything that happened and tell them we need help. We're in over our heads here."

"Yes, sir."

"Mr. Jarelek, get with him and include a list of things that they can bring out to us when they come. Be sure that a Tactical Officer is on that list."

"Yes, sir."

"Captain." Lyric broke in, "You're not going to believe this."

"I just saved money on my starship insurance."

An entirely necessary reprimand from the captain followed.

Now in an upright and locked position (seatbelts yet, Starfleet?) Salient pushed every whachamajigger, thingamabob and doodad available - face slightly burning from being told he wasn't funny. His display screen told him many things, but they could not tell him where they were in time. For that, he would have to get a little smarter.

He told the computer to catalogue the current positions of the moon relative to the earth, the earth relative to the sun, and the sun relative to the center of the galaxy. This would tell him what time of year it was, though it would not tell him what year. For that, he would be forced to computer-analyze a star chart.

He set the computer on that arduous task, then set himself to another. The computer might take a while to give an exact date - he could give the captain an idea of what time period they were in based on the development of the third planet - the human's homeworld, earth.

Mars was un-terraformed. That meant pre-Federation. He turned a dohicky that would scan the planet for cities and structures.

There was no orbiting starbase, no populated artificial satellite at all, for that matter. The data streamed in. No advanced constructions on the surface. No warp activity in the area. No environmental control. Propeller-guided air-vehicles. Wide-spread use of hair grease and combustion engines. Nothing that suggested an advanced civilization.

This was the ancient past.

"Captain," Salient called out, "this is definitely way before a Federation time period. I'm not incredibly well versed on human history, but this appears to be considerably before the invention of warp drive - by maybe fifty or sixty years."

"Fifty years," mused the captain. "What would the Order want with human past?" The answer was fairly obvious. "To disrupt the formation of the Federation. But why now? Mr. Lyric," he asked, "exactly when are we?"

"The computer will tell you in a moment, captain."

Williams turned to Ops. "Is that message sent?"

"On it's way, captain."

Now where was that Negative Order vessel? Salient scanned the planet, the immediate area, the asteroid field, Mars, the sun - and it was nowhere to be found. Salient scanned the vortex too, just to be sure it hadn't snuck by. But the vortex was still there and unused since the Acheron had passed through.

Jarelek leaned waaaaay over the railing on the upper deck, right over Salient's equipment. He whispered, "Try the other side of the moon."

Oh. Right. Salient turned a knob. It bleeped. Curse that Vulcan.

"Captain," Salient said, "my instruments tell me that there are Order psi residue trails that lead to the opposite side of earth's moon. It could be our ship."

But if it was, it had been here a whole lot, for there were many, many psi trails.

"I advise secrecy, Captain. They may be waiting for us."

The captain ordered the ship to cloak, (which really got Jarelek busy mopping up the energy residue from a pair of cloak emitters that would not have their filtering systems installed until Tuesday). This was the first time the Acheron would test her brand new phase cloak, and there was no telling what would work, and what wouldn't - until somebody shot at them.

Thusly defended, the Acheron took her crew to the other side of the moon.

Horror ensued.

For as the horizon slipped by, it began to reveal the truth. One ship came into view. Then three. Then seven. Then twelve, seventeen, thirty... it went on. And like a parasitic leech, an Negative Order base clung to the surface of the moon, all razor points and slithering shadows.

The captain found his voice. "Computer, get us out of here." The avatar obliged.

Salient swallowed hard. "Captain, I have the date."

"1944."

"The middle of World War II."

Roc collapsed into the center chair in a rather uncaptainly way and exhaled, letting his head fall back against the back of the chair. His chief engineer was telling him that his ship, fresh out of space dock, was barely holding onto main power and that another exploring expedition that utilized both the engines and the transphasic cloak would render them dependant on auxiliary systems. Roc sat up suddenly, regaining his composure.

"Lyric?" He began, "Where are they?"

"Sir?" The resident Entrolian looked up, annoyed.

"If they are traveling back in time to us, why are we waiting on them?"

"Well, sir, many factors are involved in time travel. And the fleet also must account for their change in actually physical location."

"We did it, why can't they?"

"Maybe Ole Tristan needs to make an entrance?" Samms spoke for the balcony.

"Ha! Right, you must not know the Admiral. He hates formalities." All returned to their industrious pursuits. Roc was encouraged by the change of mood on the bridge. He preferred his officers to be relaxed and comfortable with their captain while on duty. It is one thing to be professional and another thing altogether to keep regulations so stringently that it hinders good productivity. Captain Williams knew this, and was glad to see his crew adjusting to his style. Roc was a strong believer in the fact that the crew that plays together, stays together. Even though this mission, by normal Starfleet standards, would be considered a disaster, Captain Williams was now comfortable with his crew and ship. To him this would always be the most… eventful shakedown cruise of his career. And despite the miscues, malfunctions and being sucked into a temporal vortex by a gravity well created by the destruction of their only functioning probe (writer composes himself and continues) it was in his mind a success.

_...To be continued… in "_The Hidden Reich!_"_

**Post-Mission Analysis**

Salient's Notes_: Now, wasn't that fun? This was a great starting mission… although honestly, as writers, we get much more solid and fun. We were just getting a feel for the characters in this mission. Some gems in this one were our first encounter with Jaralek's hidden stash of Tachyon Filtering Grids, first mention of piss'khow lymph, and the beginning of the plot to re-design our Avatar, Lambda Lambda Lambda – although actually, after we remake it… it definitely still retains some serious personality problems. Some things that surprise me when I reread it were: One. The fact that the science console is listed as being on the main deck of the bridge instead of the top deck – it's almost always been on top across from Jarelek after this. So I changed that… but in the original, I'm definitely down where the Captain can keep an eye on me. Also, it's really cool how Roc sets up his whole command structure – I had forgotten about that too. He's way less strict than any other Starfleet captain I've known, and his style ended up working really well for his crew. Both Jarelek and Salient work best when given a little free reign, since creativity and impulsiveness (yes, Jarelek, impulsive) are major strengths for both characters._

_Memorable Quotes:_

"_Next was, as expected, was the Acheron's new first officer, Commander Daniel Samms. Samms bore a remarkable resemblance to his new captain, Roc Williams and, had it not been for the age difference, Tristan may have thought the two were the same person."  
- Admiral Errland.  
- Smile if you get the joke in that one. It's funny._

"_Please note that I am not a Cupholder, nor am I a Coffee Fetcher, nor a Paperweight."  
- Lambda Lambda Lambda (Roc's post)_

"_Jarelek's eyebrow twitched in sheer rage."  
- Jarelek_

"_Otherwise their universe would soon become a giant wedge of Swiss Cheese, only, to mister Lyric's dismay, not so tasty on cheeseburgers."  
- Jarelek  
_

"_Captain." Lyric broke in, "You're not going to believe this."  
- Roc's Post_

_"I just saved money on my starship insurance."  
- Salient's Post_

_- hehehe… clever me._


End file.
